Sunday, October 18, 2015

WHILE STROLLING MILL CREEK PARK...





I see faces.

They are everywhere:  in clouds, in trees and bushes, in stone walls, marble floors, in paintings and photographs, and even on the moon.

Some seem familiar, some are expressive; some are mischievous, others angelic.

Some smile, others appear to be howling.

A psychiatrist might say I suffer Pareidolia.

Or maybe Aprophenia.

Or maybe not.   

I don’t believe the faces I see convey hidden messages, or that only I can see them.

They’re just there, and I see them.